Lullaby Of The Heart
by MannyZanders
Summary: Series of SpinMax one-shots.
1. Jackal Smart

He still thinks of their first kiss from time to time. Remembers how sweet her lips had tasted, like cinnamon and sin, a kind of sweet addiction he just couldn't shake free of. He's not sure he ever wants to.

She called to him with her wounded heart, she of the poison barbs lobbed at her enemies that slid out between such deceptively sweet looking lips and the eyes… the icy blue orbs that could melt or freeze you depending on the temperature of her mood. She was his siren call, his heart her willing captive.

She was the end of a search, the beginning of a quest. He could finally stop looking for that girl that he would love forever. Now he just had to brave the journey into her heart. He was already in her life, that door she swung open with surprising ease, but her heart – that path lay littered with hidden traps and thorn-covered vines that wrapped their way around intended interlopers.

But he was brave. Maybe not guns blazing, fists flying Stone Cold brave, but he was Jackal brave. Especially when the achingly beautiful Maximista flung her arms around him and declared him her savior though really all he'd done was beg for her life to be spared. But the beautiful blue eyes glistened with tears of relief and her tiny body pressed close to his trembling, and he fell that last little tiny bit of space into completely in love with her. And it made him brave.

Made him ache with happiness and vibrate with determination. She was sex and she was sin, she was bitter regrets and wrenching sorrow, she was teasing kittenish charm and she was shrill harsh condemnation and he knew she would be his. Knew he would never regret falling in love with her, knew it could end in a shattered heart pieces strewn beneath careless heels of a woman wounded by life and by the universe that kept trying to shove her down but he would never regret it.

She was that universal truth, better to have love and lost then never to have loved at all – she was that something worth fighting for and he knew that she wanted him to fight for her. He would never be able to decode the explanation of why she did, but for her he was brave. She was the intangible fantasy made real by harsh reality that pushed him to see her, to really see her. For to see Maxie Jones, was to love her. But few could. Few could brave beyond the walls of indifference cemented together with the bricks of self-destruction and frozen solid by the icy breeze of her deep insecurities and self-doubt, but he could. For her, he would – he was brave. Maybe not turning his back on happiness from a misguided sense of responsibility Stone Cold brave, but he was Jackal brave.

She was melting cookie dough, sticky and sweet that clung to his fingers and slid over his parted lips, sugary pleasure coating his tongue that kept him coming back and back tempting him with its heady rush. She was the discovery of temptation, of treasure hidden beneath rocky treacherous cliffs, but he was brave. Maybe not diffusing bombs, surviving plane crashes and drunken brothers Stone Cold kind of brave, but he was Jackal brave.

And one day, she would be his.


	2. Maxie Smart

She's tired of being everybody's favorite mistake. Just once she'd like to be somebody's _best thing._

She thinks with him, it would be different. She's not really all that convinced, but she likes to pretend sometimes. Pretend that he sees more than just the sum of her mistakes when he looks at her. She's pretty sure that he does anyway, but she likes to pretend that instead of just overlooking that part of her, he loves her more for it. Because he knows that she only makes them because she's so damn scared all the time of being left all alone but he doesn't mind because at least she's not scared to go after what she wants.

But she's smart. Maybe not college degree, CNN-watching cousin Robin smart, but she's Maxie smart. She knows that she could flirt and charm her way into his bed with relative ease, but finding the way into his heart would require the loyalty and faithfulness of a genuine open heart that her mistakes of the past guarantee he will never truly believe she could actually possess, thanks in large part to The Fair Lulu whom has taken great pains to ensure he is vividly aware of each and every one of the.

But she pretends anyway. Sometimes she imagines what it would be like if he forgot about her past when he glanced her way because he was too blinded by the vision of their future, _theirs together, him and her against the world,_ to see anything but the woman only he allows her to be. But she's too smart to really believe it, she might not be character assessing, bomb defusing Mac smart, but she's Maxie smart. And she knows that some small part of him will always see her as _The Bad Blonde One_, the destroyer of The Fair Lulu's happiness, the mouthy uncooperative and unappreciative thorn in The Master's side and it makes her sad really because if he just gave her half a chance she'd make him forget everything but her. But she's nothing if not a realist, she knows parents leave, boyfriends and siblings go away leaving nothing but grief and regret to carry you through, and girls like her end up with guys like him – as friends.

And she wants to be his friend, but she aches to be his best friend, his confidante, his companion, his lover. And she likes to pretend that's what he wants to.

She doesn't want him to look at her like he used to gaze at The Original Blonde One, as if she were some unattainable goddess that would light his world with joy and perfection merely by allowing him to love her. Because she's Maxie smart, she knows that she would hate for him to look at her that way, and even the thought of him harboring that kind of adolescent crush on her makes her slightly nauseous really. She doesn't ever want to be his fantasy girl; she likes to pretend sometimes that she'll be the actual flesh and blood woman that will drag him into the real world of soaring highs and devastatingly plummeting lows, of devotion and compromises that is honest love.

He calls her _wounded,_ and it's better than all the other names she's been called in her lifetime – more accurate too probably. Not that she's not a bitch, that title's never bothered her because it's actually pretty accurate too, but she's more wounded than hateful and her gratitude at discovering that he's the one that finally understood that, surprised her. She hadn't expected it, she'd always been his Bad Blonde One and she'd been okay with that but then he'd been the light that had shined steady and bright along the dark path that was the months after Georgie and then Coops deaths and she wanted to be more then Bad to him. Slowly, reluctantly she thinks, he looked at her and seen the hurt and uncertaintly beneath the angry, hateful words and hadn't run away and hadn't tried to convince himself she was better than she actually was. And it had surprised her how happy that had made her, made her grateful to his unique Spinelli-ness and fate's unexpected kind gift that was her friend, The Jackal.

But she's Maxie smart and so she doesn't push beyond the boundaries set by their friendship, just grateful that she has been handed such a friend. And she knows that there will nothing that she won't do to ensure he never regrets her, never thinks of her as a mistake.

But she still pretends that someday she'll be his.


	3. Quicksilver

She's the drug of choice for him, the weapon of his own self-destruction and he knows that she'll always be the only choice for him. He needs her like he needs air to breathe, clichéd he knows – but so very true for him.

She's what makes his heart thud heavy and fast against his chest just by appearing and when she smiles at him he swears he hears bells. She laughs and he knows that he'd do anything to keep that open, light-hearted grin on her face.

She's flighty and she's sarcastic, she's the heady rush of spring and the liquid drugging sensation of midnight slipping over the glistening sand on a deserted beach and he just wants to keep feeling this way second after second, day after day.

He doesn't even care that she has no clue he lives for her. She trusts him and believes in him and that's enough. He dreads the day she falls in love because he knows that it won't be with him but he's starting to think that maybe it won't be the end of his world. Because he knows that even though she won't allow herself to think of him that way, to feel that way about him – he realizes that no one else will ever be able to have her completely either. And it gives him a giddy sense of pride knowing that it's because of him.

She's a quicksilver of conflicting emotions, of easily developed and even easier discarded feelings of lust and love, but she's loyal in her own way. And he was there for her in a dark, desolate and desperate time and he knows that she won't ever forget that. She will always love him – in her own unique Maxie way - for understanding, for being there for her when she deserved it the least, and needed it the most, and no one will ever take away the security that being his friend gives her, mainly because she won't let them.

She thinks no one else will ever understand her the way he does but he knows that it's just because she let him. But his insight into her heart came at a high price – the deaths of the Wise and Beautiful Georgie and the Clean Cut Cadet – and he knows that it is the highest price she will ever allow herself to pay. Never again will she open herself up or let another person in the way she did with him, mostly because even a fraction of that kind of pain of those wrenching awful months that secured their friendship would send her under forever this time. So he protects their friendship faithfully and does anything necessary to ensure that she is forever certain of his loyalty to her.

And even though he'd like the Stone Cold and Maternal One kind of love for them, he'll gladly take the Stone Cold and Valkyrie kind of dependency. Because he thinks maybe what he and the Maximista have right now – this friendship so deep so intense, it almost excludes everyone else with it's unbreakable connection – well, maybe this relationship of sorts of theirs will outlast anything and anyone, thinks that maybe they're more solid and real because there's nothing to fall in or out of – they just are.

He's just Spinelli to her, just her off-beat, orange soda chugging, laptop lugging, Stone Cold worshipping, nickname spouting best friend. And she's just Maxie to him, just his – everything, his world.

And he'll never be her lover, never be her husband and though his heart aches at the image of some unknown faceless man being the one standing at the end of the alter waiting for her someday, he's starting to think that it won't be the end of his world. Because he will always be in her life, always be the one she goes to when it matters most, and he will always be her best friend, she won't ever let go of what they have, won't ever let go of him – it's just the way she is. It won't matter to her when he eventually finds someone else to fall in love with, because she knows that she'll always come first to him – she'll make sure of it and she won't give a damn who she has to go through, or who it hurts, she craves – needs - the hold they have over each other and he knows that she will never let him go completely.

And he thinks he's okay with that.


	4. Homecoming

"Maximista!"

The happily surprised exclamation of her name sounded in the air and cut through the silence of the dark night. Maxie drew in a sharp intake of breath – she wasn't ready for this, not yet. She'd just gotten off the plane not even an hour ago and had thought she could escape to the solace of the Port Charles docks before seeing anyone – especially him. Forcing herself to lessen her sudden deathlike vise on the railings in front of her, she took in a couple of deep breaths and braced herself. Schooling her features into uncaring neutrality that belied the inner war of clashing emotions she was feeling, she turned away from the soothing lapping of the water below her and turned towards the intruder of her solitude.

"Spinelli."

Her voice was low and controlled, not like the airy burst of sound he was used to from her and he slowed as he neared her, his instinctive impulse to wrap her in a welcoming hug waning and he forced his arms back down towards his side.

"Maximista?" He repeated her name, but it asked a silent question his concern evident.

She ignored his tone and forced a strained smile to come through, "Miss me?" she was aiming for teasing but knew she fell far short of the mark. Instead of glib, her voice sounded hopeful and impossibly needy and she winced internally.

He didn't hesitate and responded honestly, "Painfully."

Her smile seemed to freeze on her face at his answer and Spinelli felt his rising worry blossom into full blown panic. Was she hurt? Had something happened this last three months she'd been in Manhattan? Or worse, had she met someone? Was that the reason for the strained smiles and cool greeting – was that why she'd ignored all his emails and refused all his calls while she'd been gone? Had she realized his feelings went far deeper and his thoughts of her far more intimate than a person relegated to the position of _friend_ had any right to? And she was now just attempting to find a way to let him down easy, to give him the "_I don't feel that way about you"_ speech?

Realizing that long moments had passed and that they were just standing there staring at each other; Maxie cleared her throat and searched for something to say to dispel the sudden awkwardness. "Uh- so…what have you been up to, anything exciting happen while I've been gone?"

He felt his heart drop a little, for her to ask that meant she had not only failed to respond to his emails and letters, she hadn't even read them. He wanted to channel his inner Stone Cold, he really did but playing it cool, impassive and uninterested had never been his strong suit and instead he just blurted out, "Why – why is the Jackal feeling like you're suddenly a stranger? You're…you're, not. You're the Maximista. And, and you're back – you're home and you didn't tell me, I didn't know. No one knew. It was most fortuitous that I ran into you here. Mr. Corinthos, sir needed the Jackal's most expert skills and, and… "

He realized that he had unconsciously reached out and grasped her hands during his ramblings and watched as she stared down at their entwined hands with an unreadable expression. But she didn't pull away; instead she kept her hands in his and glanced up at him slowly. He was shocked to see the vulnerability and a hint of pain in her beautiful blue eyes and he grasped her shoulders earnestly. "Please Maxie, tell me what's wrong. What did I do, what happened? Whatever it is, the Jackal can fix it – or, or… enlist the aid of Stone Cold to fix it. Just let me fix whatever's wrong Maxie."

He knew that he was pleading and probably sounded like a pathetic idiot to her, but he didn't really care. There was something obviously disturbing the Dazzling One and he would fix it, whatever it was. He just hoped he himself and his unwanted unrequited feelings for her weren't what had his Maximista so upset.

Her eyes widened at his rambling and some of the tenseness seemed to slide away and he looked at her questioningly, thrown off balance slightly by her quickly changing moods.

"What?" His voice was wary though his concern and confusion clearly showed on his anxious features.

Her voice was soft and that unreadable expression was back on her face, "You said my name."

He just stared at her and with a smile she reached up and gently brushed a lock of stray hair from his eyes, "You called me Maxie, it's just – weird, coming from you I'm not sure I've ever been anything other than the Bad Blonde One, the Wounded One or Maximista to you."

"You're everything to me." Her eyes widened again at his words and he closed his eyes, mortified. He just couldn't understand this inability to control his mouth when she was around.

He felt her rip herself away from his touch and opening his eyes he took an involuntary step backwards at the sudden anger lighting her face. She narrowed her eyes at him, both hands on her hips and hissed at him, "You jerk."

Eyeing her warily, he strived for eloquence. "Huh?" is what squeaked out.

She stepped forward and poked him - hard - in the chest, "I'm not going to play these games with you, Spinelli. I won't, not with you." His eyes widened at her words, his confusion over both her sudden anger and her cryptic words causing words to jumble in his head and get caught on his tongue, "Wha- but, I…what?"

She continued, "I get it, okay? I get it. You don't think of me that way, fine. I'm just the dumb blonde one you took pity on because her sister, the good Jones sister, was killed by a lunatic." His mouth fell open at that statement but before he could respond, she began poking him again her voice hard as she continued.

"Do you even have any idea how stupid I feel right now? Damn-it Spinelli – I just got back, couldn't you have given me a few days before we did this?"

He grabbed her hands as she made to poke him again – for a tiny thing, she sure packed some power when she was pissed, he was sure there'd be bruises in the morning – and resisted the urge to shake her. "Before we did what? Could you please just tell the Jackal what he's done that has you so upset, so I can fix it or apologize or explain or – or..something? Just let me fix this."

She slumped a little, the anger seemingly draining out of her and looked away from him, her voice quiet and trembling with unshed tears, "You can't. I just – I just can't go back, pretend it didn't hurt. Having you as a friend means so much to me Spinelli. But, I…it's too hard right now." She smiled wobbly at him, tears slipping down her face unheeded. "Just let me hide in my humiliation for a little bit, okay? Then we can pretend it never happened."

He looked at her bewildered, "What never happened? Please just tell me what's wrong, what did I do?"

She tried to jerk her hands away from him, but he refused to let her go. "Damn-it Spinelli, why are you doing this? You know what's wrong, you didn't come to Manhattan with me. And that's fine, it is but you don't --"

He broke into her rant with a bewildered intensity, "Wait, what? You actually desired the company of the Jackal on your mission for the Fashionista?"

She glared at him through narrowed eyes, "You jerk – I thought you were different, I really did. Is this fun for you, jerking me around like this? Are you getting some sick kick out of playing with me like this? You can just go fu--"

He interrupted her once again, placing his hands on her shoulders and giving her a slight shake, "Maxie! Stop. The Jackal is most confused, I would never play with the emotions or feelings of the Dizzying Maximista. You are the most important thing in my life and the Jackal would willingly allow the Commissioner, Sir to follow through on his many ominous – and incredibly scarily graphic – threats of harm before knowingly causing distress to the Maximista."

Maxie felt her anger and hurt recede a bit at the earnest – and honestly confused - expression on his face and cocked her head at him, her voice hesitant. "Spinelli, why didn't you come to Manhattan?"

He shrugged, "The Jackal was unaware of Maximista's desire for company."

She shook her head with a disbelieving laugh, tears slipping down her cheeks once more. "You didn't choose. You didn't get it."

"Choose what, get what?"

She bit down on her lower lip her face clearly showing that she was waging an internal battle of some sort and glanced down taking a few deep breaths. She looked up at him and he watched as she squared her shoulders as if coming to a decision.

"Before I left, I came to the Penthouse to see you." He frowned at her, "You did?" "Yeah, you – uh, you weren't there. I left you a letter instead."

His eyes widened, "You did?"

She smiled, "Yes, you never read it did you?"

He looked at her, his expression both earnest and bewildered. "I never got it. Did you – was Stone Cold given your mysterious missive?"

She shook her head, "No. Carly was the only one there – I left it on the desk for..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head again. She really didn't want a repeat of the feeling of rejection that she'd been living with for the past three months but there was a voice in the back of her head – that sounded suspiciously like Georgie – that was whispering for her to just take the chance. To risk the possible humiliation, that at least it would be better to know than to hide her feelings. And that maybe, there wasn't any rejection or humiliation coming her way this time.

"What did it say?" His voice was hesitant and hopeful and she smiled at him, her decision made. "It said that I'm in love with you and I want to be with you and if you felt the same way to come to Manhattan with me."

She looked up at the dumbfounded expression on his face and shrugged, "You never came."

He tried to come up with an appropriate response, but her words kept tumbling around and around in his head and for a few seconds he considered the very real possibility that he'd stumbled into some alternate dimension, or had unknowingly hit his head somehow and was in fact now in the process of a very vivid out of body experience.

"Hey." Maxie snapped her fingers in front of his dazed face, "This is the part where you tell the girl that she hasn't just made a complete idiot out of herself." She huffed, "I swear Spinelli, do you need some sort of how-to manual with step-by-step instructions on how to respond to declarations of love?"

Her words snapped him out of his daze and he grabbed her shoulders, "Say it again." Maxie shivered involuntarily at his demand, his voice low and husky and moving her lips near his, she whispered, "I love you, Damien Spinelli."

The sensation of her words caressing his skin nearly caused his eyes to roll into the back of his head, instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers groaning when her lips slid open beneath his and he felt the slick pressure of her tongue sliding against his bottom lip. He wrapped his arms around her and he felt her fingers tug through his unruly hair as their kiss deepened. Finally the need for oxygen forced their lips apart and he buried his face in her fragrant silky locks, mentally thanking every god and goddess that he could think of for this miracle of his deepest wishes and fantasies being so miraculously fulfilled.

She sighed and he pulled back to look into her face which was filled with mock irritation. "Spinelli – step two of the instruction manual says this is the part that you tell the girl you love her too."

"I love you Maxie Jones."

She grinned at him, "Of course you do." She smacked him lightly on the back of the head, "Sheesh – took you long enough."

"My sincerest apologies Maximista." He paused, his look one of pure resignation. "Why do I get the feeling I'll be saying that a lot?"

She shrugged, "'Cause I'm always right? Get used to it."

"Yes Maxie."

She smirked, "Get used to saying that too."

"Yes Maxie."


	5. She Loves Him For That

_Friendship. _

She's been thinking a lot about that word lately. What it means, in the definition of the word and to her.

She's not really sure she's ever been anyone's _friend _before, not truly anyway. Oh sure, there had been Sam and she honestly liked having someone to talk with and bitch to, that had understood. Because Sam was like her, self-destructive and needy with way too much confidence in their ability to lure men into their bed and way too little confidence about their ability to keep them in their life.

And Sam had certainly been the closest that anyone had ever gotten to being what she would consider a friend but now that Spinelli is in her life… not just circling the perimeter of her awareness like some annoying cyber-gnat waiting to be swatted away but in her life – really in it... Well, now Maxie thinks she never really understood what having a friend – let alone _being _one - was. Because Spinelli more than just "gets" her, he understands and more importantly _accepts_ the not so cleverly hidden layer of insecurity lying under the surface of impeccable clothes, hair and makeup.

She honestly doesn't think Spinelli even notices her carefully constructed exterior that the majority of the rest of the world sneers at her for.

_Bitch. Slut. Homewrecker. Liar. Selfish. Destructive. Hateful. Hurtful._

Just words – ones she's heard plenty of times before. She always shrugs them off because she is what she is and that's never going to change. But he doesn't try to change her; it would never even occur to him that she should change. He doesn't think she's better – or worse – than she actually is, she's just Maximista to him.

She could be wearing a fifteen thousand dollar Versace Original or a fifteen dollar Wal-Mart special and she would still be Maximista to him. She could be making the Fair Lulu's life hell or she could be her new best friend and she would still be Maximista to him.

And she loves him for that.

Loves that he's been the one constant in her life, besides Mac, since Georgie died. Loves that she knows he'll always be there, loves how he believes in her. Loves how just having him in her life has made her a better – a more real – friend to Sam, a closer cousin to Robin and a better daughter to Mac. And she loves the ring on her left hand that catches the light and signifies to the world that she loves – and is loved by – a truly wonderful man, her Spinelli.

But most of all she loves that she gets to be one of those annoying, sickening people that can truly say is marrying her best friend. And it makes some small part of her deep inside – she's pretty sure it's her deeply hidden inner-Georgie – want to shriek and giggle and twirl with happiness over this amazing and unexpected development in her life.

But she won't because she's not Georgie and because although she wouldn't admit it to anyone but Robin or Sam, she's still just a little bit afraid that it would be too much of a temptation for Fate to ignore. And this is hers, this corner of happiness, of trust, of acceptance that she's found and though she'd willingly fight to keep the love that fills her entirely when she's with him – hell, even when she just thinks about him – it makes her feel like Georgie is watching over her that she doesn't have to. But she's still not dumb enough - _Lulu enough_ - to go out of her way to tempt fate, so she just shrugs with a roll of eyes when people congratulate her on her engagement and tells them snidely that it's Spinelli they should be congratulating – after all he was lucky enough to get _her_. He just laughs and agrees and she loves him for that.

She's had to fight for everything else in her life, so this…this all-encompassing sense of _rightness_ that she hasn't had to scheme, lie or manipulate for, left her a little lost at first. Took her awhile to realize she didn't love him as a friend, she _loved_ _him_. Took her cousin, her friend and even her boss to get her to see that you didn't always have to fight to have someone love you, sometimes they just did.

And she loves him for that.

For loving her, for being her friend, for teaching her what friendship really was, for showing her what love was really like when you weren't constantly trying to cover over that hidden part of you that discovering would have them turning, running and leaving you forever. There were no hidden parts with Spinelli, he knew all of her and accepted it all, loved all the crazy, scheming, shallow parts that together made the complete Maxie.

And she loves him for that.

But mainly she loves that months ago when she'd flung open the door of _"Stone Cold's_" office unmindful of Jason and his mindless minions gaping at her and marched over to Spinelli hands on hips and told him in no uncertain terms that she was ready to get married and he'd better get with the asking already, he'd just smiled gleefully, fumbled in a nearby drawer and with an awkward flourish that only Spinelli could truly pull off, had produced the magnificent ring nestled on her finger that she'd had no idea he'd already purchased weeks before.

He was many things, but he was never boring, never judgmental and always – forever, hers.

And she loves him for that.


End file.
